round and round we go
by we are worthy
Summary: she'll come back –C


_round and round we go. _

Cameron, or Cam, as he recently preferred to be called, was sitting at the counter of a busy diner in the lower side of Manhattan. It was snowing outside and he warmed his chilly hands with a cup of coffee that had been poured for him by a blonde waitress with a drawn-on mole on her face, mascara-packed eyes lined with eyeliner and a bulging bust. She sashayed over to the other side of the counter to pour a cup of coffee for a man who had been ogling his eyes at her for the past 30 minutes. This had to be his 4th or so refill, but she didn't notice, she was too busy noticing Cam.

He'd always attracted female, and some male, attention. It was hard not to be attracted to his tousled jet-black hair and mismatched azure and emerald eyes, or so he had heard. The waitress was now walking up and down behind the counter, clanking her heels as she did so. Cam took no notice of her and instead stared into his steaming mug of coffee anxiously. He almost jumped when he heard the waitress' voice directly in front of him.

"You want a refill?" She asked in a low but, squeaky voice.

Cam looked up incredulously at her. She was wearing a short, cupcake dress with a black apron on top despite, the cold and was leaning towards him, her elbows propped up on the counter and her head resting in her hands.

"No," he said simply and continued to stare down into his coffee, which had been untouched since she had first poured it five minutes ago. From the corner of his eye, he could see a dejected look flitter across her face before she recomposed herself.

"You waiting up for anybody?" She persisted. Cam could hear the familiar hope in her voice that he had heard in the voices of many other waitresses.

"Yes, actually," he answered, feeling a warm smile creep onto his face. He heard the waitress' disappointed 'hm' before she sauntered away to serve other customers.

Usually, with conversations like these, Cam had to lie; answering yes, he was waiting for somebody, when the real answer was no. He remembered the aching longing he always felt whenever he told the lie because every time he said it, he wished that it was the truth. But tonight he wasn't lying, he reminded himself happily.

Tonight he really was waiting for someone; a girl he had been waiting for over fifty years.

He took a sip of his coffee to calm down the butterflies of both, excitement and anxiety that were fluttering around in his stomach. It didn't work. Suddenly, the bell on the door behind him chimed and the cold December chill rushed into the diner as it opened. Cam's head snapped up and he turned around expectantly. He could almost cry at the sight he saw.

The girl who had entered was still standing in front of the diner door, rubbing together her mitten-covered hands and searching for a place to sit. Cam could barely tear his eyes away from her as he turned to look at the man beside him. He tapped the man on the shoulder and he looked up, his face littered with crumbs of the bagel that he was chewing with gusto. Cam stared deep into his eyes, tapping into his mind.

"I need you to get up and sit elsewhere so that the pretty lady over by the door can sit here instead," he said aloud, slowly and mesmerizingly.

The man blinked at him for a moment before he gathered his coffee and half-eaten bagel and wandered around the diner for a new place to sit. Cam chuckled slightly, remembering how Massie had always hated it when he compelled people. Messed with their minds, getting them to do the things he wanted. Of course he knew that compulsion wasn't fair, but it was necessary sometimes.

As expected, the girl sat down in the now empty stool next to him. "Just a coffee thanks," she said politely to the waitress who now wore a bored expression on her face.

Moments later, the girl was sipping on her steaming cup of coffee. Cam realized that his coffee was still almost filled to the brim despite, the single sip he took before. He put the mug to his lips and drank the now lukewarm liquid until it was gone.

"Refill?" the waitress asked, magically appearing in front of him.

"Yeah, thanks," he said, smiling up at her.

The waitress stood there, dazzled by his brilliant smile as she filled up his cup. The coffee was dangerously close to overflowing and he cleared his throat, the waitress snapped out of her reverie with a soft "oh" and then scuttled to the other side of the counter, her cheeks pink. He heard a soft giggle next to him and he turned to see the girl shaking slightly with laughter.

He smiled at the sound of her laughter, oh how he had missed it.

"Something funny?" he asked. Not intending anything, but niceness.

The girl turned to him, biting her lip to keep her from smiling. It was Cam's turn to be dazzled. The smile brought back memories that instantly brought a smile to his own face. Those memories, however, were excruciatingly painful when she wasn't around to share them. Except, he reminded himself, this girl was not Massie. She was entirely different, yet the same.

"Oh nothing," she replied, laughter in her voice.

Cam was puzzled for a moment, lost in his memories he almost forgot that he had asked her a question. She swirled an icy-pole stick around in her coffee, a look of irrational concentration on her face. She always did this, he thought. Paid more attention to everything else around her but him. He was always flustered at the fact. Why could he attract the attention of everyone else, but her? The only one he wanted attention from. He shook his head slightly, reminiscing.

"What?" The girl asked, quizzically. Cam hadn't realized she had been watching him. He smirked slightly in satisfaction.

"Oh nothing," he mimicked, smiling innocently.

"Ha ha," she said in a teasing voice, a look of amusement growing on her face. Cam could only grin back at her.

"I'm Olivia," she said, holding her hand out, "but you can call me Liv."

"Cameron," he replied, "but you can call me Cam." Then he took her hand. At that moment, a spark ignited between them. A spark that made people want to jerk their hands away in surprise, but he didn't. He couldn't bear to and he knew Liv couldn't as well. There was a magnetic pull between them and he yearned to get closer to her.

And suddenly, he was back in 1951. Back when he stumbled across Kristen in the bustling streets of New York City. She was wearing a polka-dot dress with a poodle skirt that flared only millimeters above her knees. It wasn't until the 1960's when skirts above the knee became the hype in society. And he found that skirts became shorter and tighter as the years went on. She had come out of a bookstore, walking around with her head stuck in book she was reading with a look of concentrated awe on her face. It was no surprise that she bumped into someone; Cam. And the moment he held her small frame to keep her from falling, the moment he stared into her ocher-brown eyes, he felt the same magnetic pull and electric spark that he always felt when he touched her.

He was then brought back to 1899, back to the glitz and glamour of Manhattan's elite. There he met Alicia in a deep purple gown at a masquerade ball. Her tight corset exaggerated the fullness of her breasts and the dark frills and laces of her dress only added a more seductive aspect to her aura. She wore a purple mask that matched her gown and through it, she had alluring eyes that invited Cameron, as he like to be called back then, to dance with her. Alicia was a scandalous little thing. Her exploits with Cam would have shunned her out of society if they were exposed.

On the outside, she was the polite, blossoming young woman that society found admirable and respectable. On the inside, however, she was the most cunning little creature, more sexually active than most women of the time were meant to be. He remembered the first time he touched her bare skin, a memory which always made him shiver. He remembered one night kissing passionately in her room, a place where young men should never be present unless they were married to the owner. He remembered ripping off her corset feverishly and when he touched the skin of the small of her back, he remembered the spark that ignited like fire throughout his own body, and hers. Like lightning coursed through his veins and fire burned his skin.

He was then thrown back to 1854. He was in England, the beginning of everything. Once again, he was a part of society's elite; present at one of the important galas of the year. It was the very first time he met Massie. She had been 16, he was 18. He remembered his eyes being drawn to her when she entered the ball room dressed in a scarlet red gown. Frills of black lace decorated her bodice and more black lace fringed the tiers of ruffles that was her skirt. He remembered the gloves she wore, black instead of the traditional white that were popular within women of the day.

Her hair, which had been a midnight black back then, was pulled back with an equally black headband which blended into her hair. It was love at first sight, well, infatuation before he really got to know her. He spent another three years with her, three of the most memorable years of his life, - and he had lived for quite a while - before the event that dramatically changed everything. He was riding in a carriage to Massie's family manor, an engagement ring readily in his pocket bought from Tiffany & Co.

He arrived to find her house in disarray, her front door had been knocked down and it was horribly disfigured with scratches. A sinking feeling settled in the bottom of Cam's stomach. Something was wrong. He rushed out of the carriage with inhuman speed only to stand frozen at the doorway of the manor.

Blood. There was blood everywhere. Lining the walls as if someone had dipped their fingers in it and dragged them along as they walked through the halls. He walked further into the entryway and gasped in horror at what he saw. Massie's family, dead, sprawled across the floor. Their eyes widened and their mouths open with identical looks of shock. He moved closer and saw two punctured holes in the sides of every one of their necks. He clenched his jaw grimly. One of his kind had been here. Vampire.

He searched the rest of the house desperately. Every room was the same, bloody and in chaos.

When he reached Massie's room, he was in a state of distressed frenzy. He stood in her doorway taken aback. Her room was clean, untouched - or so it seemed. Cam spied Massie lying on her bed, her hands folded across her stomach and her eyes closed. The epitome of peace and tranquility. It wasn't until Cam drew closer before he realized how terribly wrong he was. She wasn't breathing and as Cam reached out a shaky hand to touch her wrist, he felt no pulse. Slowly, in a dream-like state he moved to the other side of the bed. There, beside her, was a syringe with a note attached to it.

_She'll come back._ It said, and at the bottom, he saw a familiar insignia; _-C._

Cam picked up the syringe with a trembling hand. Inside were just a few remaining drops of a gold substance.

No. He thought, devastated. No, no, no. She couldn't have.

He brushed Massie's curled midnight hair away from her neck and his fears were confirmed. There were no puncture wounds, meaning she had not been bitten; but the discovery did anything but grant Cam relief. He unbuttoned the front of the dress she was wearing and he felt as if his world had shattered right there and then at what he saw. Someone had stabbed her, right in the heart and there was a gruesome hole to prove it. The blood had been cleaned away and the weapon was no where in sight. Someone had even been insane enough to put her in a nice, clean dress.

His hands were shaking with rage and his breathing became heavy. Massie had been injected with angel's blood. It could only be taken out of the body's system by a vampire bite. The monster, the vampire that had been in Massie's home had drained the rest of her family of blood yet didn't bother to bite Massie. And when a human died with Angel blood in their system, they were plagued with the curse of reincarnation.

As the note had said, Massie did come back. She came back at 50 year intervals as Alicia, Kirsten and now Olivia. And every passing day without her, every day he had to wait for her return, was torment for him. He knew what had happened was an act of revenge, and boy was it the most excruciating punishment he had to live through. Someone, a monster, had done this. And he hadn't heard from her since that tragic night of late 1857 but he knew exactly who it was.

He snapped back into the present and hastily let go of Olivia's hand. Her face looked as if it had been drained entirely of blood.

"Do I.. Do I know you?" She asked shakily, spooked. As if she had just seen flashbacks of the past too. But that was impossible.

He didn't answer her; he couldn't.

"This may sound silly, but…" she seemed at a loss of words before she continued, "reincarnation…"

Cam became alert and his body stiffened. Impossible, he thought.

"Reincarnation...is it possible? Do you believe it's possible?" She said, her voice wavering. As if she couldn't believe what she was saying.

Cam could only gape at her and before he could answer, somebody else did.

"Yes. Yes he does," a voice thick with evil said behind him. A voice that filled Cam with uncontrollable rage.

He whirled around and dashed at the woman he knew was behind him with his vampiric speed. He pinned her to the wall of the diner, his hand around her throat. People were watching, including Olivia, but he didn't care.

_She'll come back. -C_

"Claire," he growled through barred teeth.

Claire, with her demonic beauty sneered back at him. Her eyes were a blood red and her blonde hair was set elegantly in curls; a thick halo around her head. She had not changed one bit since 1850.

"Hello Cam."


End file.
